Pesky Polly

One early morn, when the sky was awash with purple, Polly the pesky purple porphyrio woke up with a devilish smile on her face. Autumn had come, and that meant only one thing. Polly the pesky porphyrio would go picking for plump persimmons.

The farmer had sloppily slapped on the net. It was loose and soon the wind picked it up and flung it away. With the net uselessly unpinned and swirling in the wind, it was not protecting the persimmons, pesky Polly spied. She crept carefully up to the persimmon tree with her long, red legs. She crept under the tree and looked up. The early morning light shun on the plump persimmons. It was a sea of treats just for her. Up she jumped onto the first branch, picking and pecking at the juicy golden fruit. Pick, peck, pick, peck, pecked polly the pesky porphyrio.

After plumping up on persimmons, she plonked down to the ground and plodded away.

Lucky she was, Polly the pesky, purple porphyrio for she truly was the plumpest of the lot.